


Must Be Fate

by sigsegv



Category: Soul Eater
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Coffee Shops & Cafés, Alternate Universe - College/University, F/M, Humor
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-12-14
Updated: 2015-12-13
Packaged: 2018-05-06 13:34:44
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,733
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5419004
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sigsegv/pseuds/sigsegv
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Either through the mysterious workings of the universe, or sheer dumb luck, soulmates will always find each other. A collection of AU shorts.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Serves You Right

The clock over the bar was showing half past seven when Soul decided that he's had enough waiting. It's been twenty minutes since his date had excused herself and although he couldn't be certain, as both the toilets and the exit were invisible from where he was sitting, there was a strong possibility that he was being blown off.

Not that he really cared much, to be honest. Out of the five blind dates his brother set him up for, this one was second worst. Or perhaps _the_ worst, because that time when the girl turned him down the moment she saw him couldn't be counted as a proper date. Today at least they managed to have something that could pass for a conversation, even if it was a boring and forced one.

Maybe he was being too harsh - maybe it was just a bad day in general. The weather was so awful he had to drink three coffees one right after another to stay awake. The usually crowded diner was almost empty, save for one other customer dozing off in the corner. Even that ever-cheerful waitress with the cute pigtails seemed to be in a foul mood today. Seeing no point in sitting there any longer, Soul finished his coffee and called her over to get the bill.

* * *

The clock over the bar was showing half past seven when Maka decided that what little remained from her faith in men was irreversibly lost. All thanks to that white-haired bastard, now casually slurping coffee at one of the tables she was waiting.

For the past few months he's been coming for dinner (at least twice a week), he seemed like a really decent guy. Always polite, calm, never complaining. Although he wasn't one for small talk at first,  his attitude quickly warmed, often leading to a snarky but good-humoured banter. To top it all, he was also unfairly handsome, so Maka wasn't surprised in the least when one day about two months ago he came along with a girl. It _did_ surprise her a bit when two weeks later he showed up with a different woman. And then, after two more weeks, she saw him with _yet another woman_ , which got her absolutely livid. Today, as the count of his girlfriends reached four, she couldn't even bring herself to be angry anymore. _So he's just like Papa_ , she thought bitterly, _like_ all _the men are_. Why should it be any news? More importantly, why did she even care?

Fortunately, she didn’t have any time to mull over that uncomfortable question, because he called her over again.

"Anything else I can get you, sir?" she asked in the sweetest tone she could muster, despite the urge to lodge the hardbound menu in his skull.

"Can I get a check? And for the lady too," he nodded towards an the empty chair opposite of him. "I don't think she's coming back."

"Why, did she find out about your other three girlfriends?"

Shit. Did she really say that out loud? Oh God, she did, judging by the baffled look on his face and a small 'what' she heard in the dead silence that fell.

"Nothing!" she squeaked quickly in a last-ditch attempt to save her face. Forget the face! Her _job_ was at stake here. Not only did she offend one of their best customers, she did so in the rudest way imaginable. In her mind she could already hear the manager chiding her for this transgression. But the stern lecture in the undefined future was nothing compared to the hell that was about to break loose right now. "I'm so sorry! I didn't mean..."

Over the edge of her jotter she watched as the man's eyes grew wide, his face went red and...

"No!" he exclaimed, holding up his hands and waving them frantically. "Nonono! It's not like this! I'm- this is- aw, man..." he broke off, pinching the bridge of his nose. He didn't seem angry at all, rather... flustered? What the hell was happening?

"Look. This was my brother's idea, okay?" he started again with a heavy sigh. "He's getting married in three months and I'm his best man. The problem is, I don't have anyone to bring along with me and my family thinks it would 'look bad' if I went to the reception alone. So they got this brilliant idea to fix me up with one of my brother's friends, but... well, you've got the general idea how well it is going," he pointed at the empty chair once again.

Maka found it really hard to believe that this man had any problems finding a date. Then again, he had exactly zero reasons to lie to her. At any rate, seeing his level of embarrassment nearly matching her own helped her to calm down a bit.

"Sir, I am really, _really_ sorry. This comment was way out of line, this is none of my business and you didn't have to explain yourself."

"S'fine... Maka," he caught a glimpse of her nametag and gave a diminishing wave. "I'm even glad I got to sort that out. I don't want you to think I'm some kind of... I'm not like this. Cool guys don't cheat."

Maybe it was from the relief (that was only partly caused by a narrowly avoided scolding), but that final statement, complete with the way he ran his hand through his hair, made Maka snort.

"Cool guys don't take their dates to the bars like this, either," she quipped before she could stop herself.

"What's wrong with it?" He was genuinely surprised. "I think it's a nice place."

"Well, it's not so bad, I guess, but it definitely isn't a _nice_ nice place, you know what I mean?"

He studied her with squinted eyes for a long moment and just as she started to get uneasy under this survey, he grinned widely, showing a set of impossibly white and sharp teeth.

"All right then. What other place would you recommend? Where does your boyfriend take you?"

"I don't _have_ a boyfriend," she began carefully. Was he probing or was she reading too much into an innocent question? "And I'm not the biggest fan of fancy restaurants, so I really don't know..."

"Aw, come on. Help me out here. Just name one place to eat. Anything at all?"

"The kiosk in the park sells great burgers," she joked to buy some time to search her memory for the name of the restaurant one of her friends has mentioned recently. "And I heard from a friend that _Chapter Two_ is rather good."

The man nodded thoughtfully.

"Thanks. That really helps a lot."

He didn't say anything else, neither then nor when receiving the check, but when Maka collected the payment (with the usual tip, despite everything), she noticed something on the other side of the tab. A phone number scribbled there along with the note:

_Call me if you want to go for burgers sometime. Soul_

The first instinct was to throw the note out, but eventually she decided against it. She was probably going to regret it, she thought, but to hell with it. Most likely it will end on this one date anyway.

(It didn't end on one date and she wasn't regretting it three months later, dancing with her boyfriend at his brother's wedding).

 


	2. Rise of the Machines

In just two months since she started college, Maka came to the conclusion that every single mechanical thing on campus - from printers to elevators - was _evil_. Not a day went by without an appliance misbehaving, and from what she gathered, the student body generally accepted it as a fact of life. And while such incidents were often a good occasion to bond over a shared misfortune (like the recent flooding of the dorm's basement, courtesy of a washing machine gone wild), that didn't quite make up for the troubles.

The vending machines on the ground floor of the main hall were, in Maka's opinion, the worst. Really, all she ever asked for was some coffee with milk; so far she only managed to get a black coffee (for the price of white), some hot water (that smelled suspiciously of bullion) and some undrinkable white pulp (that could've been powdered milk, but could just as easily have _not_ ). On one occasion, the planets had aligned and the machine actually did dispense coffee with milk - unfortunately, it also ran out of cups and didn't see fit to share that information beforehand. That was beyond a simple malfunction, Maka decided - it was a full-blown Rise of the Machines.

And now they started taking hostages.

It was half past six on a Thursday evening and the incredibly boring, three-hour long lecture on work ethics was only halfway through. Maka desperately needed caffeine to get to the end of the day, but with the current track record she wasn't going to trust the coffeemaker anymore. Instead, she decided to try her luck with the vending machine and buy some Coke. Or should she say _win_ , because the other machine worked just as moodily, though usually, with a swift kick, it could be persuaded to cooperate. There was one problem though, as she noticed coming down the stairs: the machine seemed to be in the middle of a wrestling match.

A white-haired boy was kneeling before the dispenser, with his right arm stuck up to the elbow in its guts - clearly losing and looking about ready to surrender. He seemed vaguely familiar too, though Maka couldn't quite pinpoint it. She must have just seen him somewhere around the campus and his unusual appearance wormed into her memory.

Maka stopped at the bottom of the stairs, looking around the otherwise empty hallway and weighed her options. It was fairly late, so not many people were left in the building and on top of that, the machines were located near the less frequently used staircase. There wasn't much choice for anyone with basic human decency.

Besides, she _really_ needed that Coke.

The boy was too preoccupied to notice her, even as she approached. Were he not trapped at the ground level, he would have jumped up to the ceiling when she spoke.

"Um... Can I help you?"

"Do you think you could?" he asked skeptically, looking up at her with tired red eyes. He tried to move his arm again, but the hatch still refused to loosen its hold. "I'd _really_ like to see that."

"Can't promise you anything, but I'll try." Maka kneeled down beside him to assess the situation. At a glance it looked pretty straightforward: the bag of chips stuck several inches above the hatch told her most of the story. During an attempt to retrieve it, the boy's arm got trapped between the edge of the opening and the plastic flap.

"Does it hurt?" she asked while groping around the hatch in search of any other elements that could be getting in the way.

"Not much." He observed Maka as she grabbed the flap and gave it an experimental tug. "It's all numb, I can't really feel iiIIIAAAUUGH!!!"

Maka almost fell back, startled by his scream.

"You said you couldn't feel it!"

"I _can_ ," he corrected, voice between a growl and a whine, "when you're trying to _peel my skin off!_ "

"Sorry," she muttered. His ill temper was perfectly understandable, given the situation. But still, she was doing her best to help, so he could at least _try_ not to be an ass.

The boy exhaled loudly, running his free hand through his hair and down his face, then peered at her from underneath his bangs.

"'S okay. 'M sorry too. Shouldn't have yelled at you. Will you still help me?"

So apparently it didn't hurt to be nicer. Maka, never the one to hold a grudge, instantly perked up. Besides, she found it pretty hard to be irritated with someone with such a striking resemblance of a puppy tied to a lamppost.

"No problem. I'm always ready to lend a hand to a soul in need. What's so funny?" She was just about to test the flap again, when his snicker threw her off.

"Nothing. Just... Your choice of words. My name is actually Soul."

"Oh. Okay, that _was_ sort of funny." She went back to examining the dispenser, this time much more carefully. "I'm Maka, by the way."

"Nice to meet you, bookworm."

She stared at him blankly for a moment, confused as to why would he call her that all of the sudden, before something in her brain finally clicked.

"You helped me with that printer, in the library!" She exclaimed, remembering her first visit there: the absolute disaster of a paper jam and the helpful (if snarky) stranger that came to the rescue. "Well, at least now I can return the favor."

Soul's mouth twitched in a lopsided, yet oddly charming grin.

"Yeah, though I don't recall that printer trying to _mutilate_ you, so we're still hardly even. I'll owe you at least a coffee or something if you get me out."

"We'll see about that."Maka cleared her throat and once again returned her attention to the machine. It was a little harder to focus now, as she was suddenly very aware of how close to Soul she was sitting. She tried to ignore that, but at the same time took extra care to avoid touching his hand. "Can you, I don't know, twist your arm a bit? To get it more parallel?"

They tried a few more configurations from the very limited list of possibilities but to no avail. The flap always moved only half an inch before getting stuck on its hinges. With enough force Maka should’ve been able to push it further, but she couldn't get a proper grip to apply it.

"That's no good," she concluded, ceasing their efforts and plopping down on the floor. Her fingers ached and her legs were getting cramps from the long kneeling. She could only imagine how sore Soul must be. "How badly are you attached to this hand?"

Soul gave her a flat look.

"I'm a pianist."

"Well, that's a shame." Maka shook her head. "Sorry, looks like you're gonna have to gnaw your arm off."

Soul banged his head on the front side of the machine with a heavy sigh.

"Maybe it's time to get some actual help?" He suggested weakly, clearly not too happy with the idea, as it no doubt meant getting into even bigger trouble.

Maka raised an eyebrow.

"You mean like the fire brigade? Because I don't think we can find anyone useful here at this hour."

Soul's answer was a groan and another bang. She ignored him, once again leaning closer to the hatch to prod the flap.

"I can't push it far enough," she complained, mostly to herself. She couldn't get it done with sheer force, but maybe there was another way. "If I could just... hold on, I've got an idea."

"I'll wait right here," Soul quipped after her, but she was already on her feet and running down the hall. It took her less than a minute to get to the bathroom and return with a mop that for some inexplicable reason was always stored in one of the stalls rather than in janitor's closet. Using its handle as a leverage, she was finally able to lift the flap and free Soul. The whole operation was so simple she felt stupid that she hadn't thought of it sooner.

Soul, however, didn't seem to care much for the delay, being just relieved to have his hand back and in one piece.

"Thanks a million," he said as they headed towards the exit (Maka decided to skip the last twenty minutes of her lecture). "Seriously, don't know what I'd do without you. And I was serious about taking you for coffee. I-if you'd like to, that is."

"Sure, as long as it's not from the hellspawn over there," Maka pointed over the shoulder to the other feral machine. "Cafeteria? After morning classes tomorrow?"

Soul nodded and smiled - a genuine smile this time - and Maka responded alike, blaming the blush on her cheeks on the cold that hit her as they left the building. However, after parting ways she couldn't help but think that maybe this time dealing with rogue machines was actually worth the trouble.


End file.
